Epilogue

One year after that game 6 against San Antonio, and two championships after the first critics had called for the big 3 to be blown up, the big 3 would blow themselves up. Very few leave the stage too early.  Perhaps they left at just the right time. My greatest fear for the Heat is not that they would dissolve. Or that they would fail to keep up their winning ways. It’s that in growing old together, they would replace the happy memories with sadder ones. With images of a team who just couldn’t defeat the undefeated force that calls itself father time. That our lasting image would be of that. 

Not that another phase of the Miami heat wouldn’t have been a fascinating one. It would have. And it probably would have found a way to maintain success. But it could never have quite maintained what it once was. Even by the fourth year, the intrigue, as seen by the level of interest in the regular season, had started to die down. We had become accustomed to the extraordinary, and fading athleticism meant fast break dunks had been replaced with cunning layups. Selfish flashes of power replaced by exquisite team ball. It was an essential part of the team’s evolution, but it had started to feel less distinctly “Heatles”. Though it hurts, perhaps it’s best that the team ended when it did. Not on happy terms, but on terms of understanding. Of preservation of lifelong bonds. Leaving those 4 years as something pure. Something unquestionable from start to finish. A 4 year rollercoaster that never stopped until it decided it would, on its own terms. A ride we hope the players can get together and reminiscent about fondly. Of bonds forged in fire. Of a unique experience that only those few men can know. We hope they do as we know we will.

No ending is without sadness. It forces us to accept the reality that those moments we hoped we could live in forever have passed, been forged into memories. But it’s the reality of life, and it’s one to be faced regardless of how the inevitable end is reached. If THOSE memories are the parting gifts that we receive, then how grateful and privileged we must feel.

Teams dream of getting within sniffing distance of the NBA summit. The Heat lived there for four years, and dined.